Sometimes, I really believe that things happen for a reason. In the summer of 2010, I quit my part-time job as a web designer for a newspaper, and began working full-time on my and a partner’s digital marketing business. That didn’t work out, for many reasons, and I found myself jobless in early 2011. It took me almost a month to find a new job as the marketing specialist at a tee shirt design company. Suddenly, I no longer had to worry about money, because I was making a salary of $30,000 a year — or $800 every two weeks — after Uncle Sam intervened. I worked eight-hour days and saved most of my paychecks. The job had its problems, but the paycheck was well worth the stress. Or so I thought until I got sick again.
When you have a chronic illness, you never know when another flareup is going to occur, or how long it will last. It’s even worse if you’re undiagnosed and don’t have any sort of treatment plan other than symptomatic relief. In less than a month, I became completely worn down. I could barely get out of bed, and limped from my bed to the bathroom every morning. I was twenty-two years old, but my body felt like I was eighty-two. My skin broke out in weird rashes and my ankles swelled up so much, I couldn’t wear anything other than flip flops. I had to leave early frequently for doctors’ appointments, and called out three times in three months on mornings when I really just couldn’t push myself. Throughout all of this, I talked to my supervisor, who pretended to be understanding but threw me under the bus later; after three months of working there, I found myself unemployed and still in pain.
It almost destroyed me. The side of the couch I sat on every day will forever be softer than the other side from the days I spent filling out job applications online and doing a lot of staring at my laptop screen. I decided to return to retail because of the flexible scheduling; I could still make doctors’ appointments, and could go back to school. Retail jobs are usually everywhere because people shop as often as cats bathe, but it took me almost four months to find one.
Even though I knew the scheduling would benefit me, I worried constantly about being on my feet all day. Previously, I’d only had desk jobs, which made it a little easier to crawl into work on those days when I could barely get out of bed. Still, I was beyond broke; the huge chunk of change I’d saved during those three months was gone after three and a half months of unemployment, and a stack of bills sat on my desk.
For the first few weeks, I came home aching every day. Even wearing sneakers instead of flats didn’t help the problem very much. I powered through, though, and after about a month, paid off all my bills. At the end of every week, though, I was broke again. As a cashier, I was only getting about fifteen hours a week, so I asked my supervisor if I could cross-train in another department, in the hopes that I could become a sort of Jack of all trades and get more hours because of my experience in multiple departments. Since talking to my supervisor, I’ve cross-trained on the floor in the clothing departments (folding clothes and assisting customers), in merchandising (putting away new clothes and organizing them according to the book), and in freight (putting away the merchandise that comes off the truck). I willingly volunteered for all of this, and yet in the back of my mind was terrified that I couldn’t do it… but I did do it.
It’s not easy. There are days when I limp through my shift. Sometimes my wrists give up on life. I most definitely cannot carry more than a few pairs of jeans at a time. (Who knew denim could be so heavy?) I usually come home with my back screaming, or at least with very achy, swollen feet. Sometimes while I’m working, I think, I can’t, but then I somehow find a way to power through. Slowly, the word “can’t” is disappearing from my vocabulary. Slowly, I am learning to work through my pain — literally.
There was a time when I would literally lay down and stop fighting when it hurt so much I wanted to cry and when I got hit with that fatigue that permeates my bones, but I’m learning to keep on swimming, and it has changed my life immensely. It’s changed my outlook, which has enabled me to do what I’ve always wanted to do, but never thought I could: write for a living.
I’m living my dream life, because I can.
